The Art of the Come-On
The perfect come-on. It's the Holy Grail of dating, the enchanted key that unlocks the glorious gates of Eternal, On-Demand Lady Lovin'. Many seek it. Many fail.
"Shoot, I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I have yours?"
"If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together."
"Did you clean your pants with Windex? Because I can practically see myself in them."
The notion that a single pick-up line could win a woman's heart, or even convince her to doff her Hanky Pankies for an exceedingly pleasant 37 minutes, is so far-fetched I'd swear it were a myth. Except that, occasionally, it works.
I was sitting outside a Denny's recently, waiting for my family to arrive. A couple of young guys were walking in when one stopped and said, "Excuse me?"
I turned, expecting him to say that I'd dropped my car keys. Or forgotten to put on pants. You know, the usual.
"I just want to tell you, I think you're really pretty," he said.
And that was it. No creepy alligator smile. No goofy drunk-on-the-dance-floor body language. Just "you're really pretty," a shy grin, and he moseyed into the eatery.
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